


a half-elf's worth

by sparxwrites



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, F/M, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Relationship, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 12:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11509476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparxwrites/pseuds/sparxwrites
Summary: “Percy,” said Vex, abruptly, her tone suddenly… not quite sombre, but considerably more serious than it usually was. There was none of the light, easy teasing, almostflirting, he’d grown so used to, and it worried him. Vex was rarely serious. “Change of subject. Would you say I look put together? Well-off? With this armour, I mean.”(A rewrite of That Scene from episode 59 between Vex and Percy, if things were just a little different.)





	a half-elf's worth

“Percy,” said Vex, abruptly, her tone suddenly… not quite sombre, but considerably more serious than it usually was. There was none of the light, easy teasing, almost _flirting,_ he’d grown so used to, and it worried him. Vex was rarely serious. “Change of subject. Would you say I look put together? Well-off? With this armour, I mean.”

There was a long moment’s silence, where Percy attempted to parse the question – not just what she’d said, but what she _meant_. The two were so often entirely different things, he’d discovered, not just with Vex, but with her brother, too. “Hmm,” he said, eventually, careful and thoughtful, “in what sense?

“Well,” she said, a little impatiently, words carried quickly off the tip of her tongue by the anxiety cold down her spine. “You come from money, right?” She barely waited for him to nod before continuing. “Right. So, um. Do I look like… like I come from money?”

It was such a _simple_ question, so oddly honest coming from Vex, that Percy nearly laughed. The look on Vex’s face, the naked _vulnerability_ , stopped him – made him settle down and sit on the edge of the bed next to her instead, brows drawn together – but it was a near thing. “Honestly, dear,” he said, smiling a slightly crooked smile through his concern, “you’re too _happy_ to look like you come from money.”

“I don’t believe that!” She couldn’t help but laugh a little, the sound startled out of her as Percy once again managed to surprise her with his strange, unique brand of wit.

“No, no, a sure sign of it is just… an abject misery; believe me, I can speak to it.” It was such a _Percy_ thing to say, pompous and self-deprecating all in one, that in any other circumstance she would have grinned, teased him for it. “Um… you look too much like you, and you don’t look enough like something you’re _supposed_ to be.” He pinked, a little, though she couldn’t imagine why, the flush showing up bright against the Whitestone-pale of his cheeks and nose. “If you feel the urge to deeply bullshit, though, I’d be happy to help you. It’s not hard.”

“No…?” asked Vex, with a watery smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“No,” said Percy, voice gentle. His hands twitched where they lay in his lap, itching to reach out to her, but unsure if he was quite allowed. If it was quite appropriate. “It’s _easy_ to pretend you come from money, dear. Trust me. You just have to be a bit of a shit, and wear what everybody else is wearing.” He huffed out a soft, self-depreciating laugh, and gestured at himself – only for the faint smile on his face to slip off it when he realised Vex wasn’t smiling at all.

Hesitantly, he reached out, touching her shoulder. “Does… does this have something to do with that city?” he asked, entirely unsure if he was overstepping his boundaries. When he saw the way her eyes were glittering in the light, creased at the edges and unnaturally bright, though, he sighed, and settled his arm carefully around her shoulders. “It _does_ , doesn’t it?” He squeezed her shoulder, gently, and pulled her a little closer to him, trying to offer what comfort he could. “Who’s there, Vex?”

There was a brief pause, for a moment, as Vex raised an unsteady hand to her eyes and wiped away the tears caught on her eyelashes with one thumb. The kohl around her eyes smeared with the motion, a streak of smudged darkness cutting through her temple, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Oh, only everyone. We were… _judged_ , growing up,” she said, dropping her hand to her lap again and knotting her fingers together. “… _I_ was judged, growing up.” Her knuckles were white, nails digging crescent-moons into the skin of her own palms.

“Oh?” asked Percy, aiming for polite curiosity and not quite managing it. There was no way to hide the growing anger stirring in him, anger towards anything that could make Vex’ahlia, usually so strong and carefree and self-confident, into this much of a nervous mess.

He reached out, a little hesitantly, and laid a hand on top of hers, brushing a thumb across her knuckles. Like this, he could feel how _tense_ she was, the anxiety thrumming just beneath her skin, and wished he could offer some better kind of comfort than simple touch.

“Mhm.” Vex sniffed, blinking a few times, tears already turning her eyelashes heavy and glittering again. “I mean… we both were, me and Vax, but… me, especially. They- they used to call us Syldor’s half-bloods, you know. The bastard sons. Half-breeds. Bad enough that they’re illegitimate, that they’re bastards and half-human, that they play with knives and run off to the forest every other day, but have you _heard_ , one of them has started wearing _dresses_ -!”

She tried desperately to get a hold of herself, even as the tears began to trickle down her cheeks. It was ridiculous, she told herself, _ridiculous_ , to let the coming prospect of Syngorn and her father get to her like this. But it was late, and she was tired – they were all so _very_ tired – and everything was… too much. And so the tears kept falling, even as she tried to blink them away, even as she swallowed the small gasps rising in her throat, no matter how hard she tried to stop them.

Through the tears and the nervous misery, she kept a half-eye on Percy, watching for his reaction – dreading his reaction. But he said nothing, and did nothing, simply sat there, with an arm around her, his fingers sweeping gently and rhythmically back and forth against the leather of her armour. She would have thought he’d misheard, misunderstood, if it weren’t for the briefest flash of surprise that crossed his face, a faint hint of curiosity in the raise of his brows.

“Syldor was never _openly_ cruel about it,” she said, eventually, voice soft and watery when she felt able to speak again, “but…”

Words failed her, once more, her silver tongue going numb and her throat closing around another hiccuping sob welling up in it. How to articulate what Syldor had been? How to put words to the way she’d always been able to feel the heavy weight of disappointment in his gaze, the way the knife in her heart had twisted every time he’d said _son_ by half-accident – the agony of knowing he considered _her_ little more than a phase, a childish rebellion?

Percy sighed, quietly, stroking a hand up and down her upper arm. Though she couldn’t feel it much through the armour, couldn’t feel the callouses and scars that covered his palm and fingers, the motion was more than welcome. “But that doesn’t mean he _wasn’t_ cruel,” he finished, quiet understanding in every syllable. “Vex’ahlia, I… am so sorry you had to experience that kind of unpleasantness.”

The warmth in his voice, the quiet empathy, the _understanding_ … it made her chest ache. It made her want to kiss him, her lips on his, wet and messy and tearful. It made her fall, just a little, further in love.

“It’s not- oh, I feel like I’m making a big fuss over nothing,” she said, instead, because if she didn’t say _something_ then she _was_ going to kiss him, and make a mess of things. Drawing in a deep breath, she sat up straighter – ignoring the flutter of gratitude in the pit of her stomach when Percy didn’t pull his arm away, left it curled warm and comforting around her shoulders – and wiped at her eyes again, trying to compose herself. “It’s been _years_ since we’ve been back, and- well, we won’t be there for long, it’s not important-”

“Oh, I disagree,” said Percy, softly, squeezing her arm. “I think- dear, I think… it is _entirely_ understandable that you’d not want to go back to a place full of petty, awful people who were intolerably cruel to you. And I also think that, if you’re worried about trying to prove you’re worth their respect, then… maybe you’re worrying about the wrong things. I think you’re better off with, firstly, the company you keep, and secondly, with… the fact that you’re probably just _better_ than most of them.”

The matter-of-fact-ness with which he said it made her laugh – she couldn’t help it. Giggling, a little damp and hiccuping, but giggling nonetheless, she wiped at her eyes and smiled at him. “You do say the sweetest things, you know,” she said, aware she was being far less guarded than she normally would be, perhaps unwisely so, but somehow unable to care.

Perhaps, she thought, she’d cried out all the nerves over Syngorn, and Syldor, and there was no anxiety left for Percy. For now, at least.

Percy smiled back at her, _truly_ smiled – a rare thing, for Percy, whose smiles were often little more than a half-twitch of his lips, sarcastic or self-depreciating or bitter. It lit up his whole face, a quiet, radiant thing that softened all of his hard edges and seemed to smooth even the scars away for a moment.

“I’ve known a lot of people with money, and…” His smile turned crooked, just a little, and he reached up a hand to cup the curve of her face. The callouses on his fingers caught against her skin, especially when he swept a hand across her cheek to catch the last of the tears streaked down it, and for a long moment Vex forgot how to breathe. “Well, they are _definitely_ not worth you. You are one of the most exceptional people I know, Vex’ahlia. You’re far more elegant and attractive than any high society girl I’ve ever met, believe me. You don’t need to have come from money or have your father’s approval for that.”

A half-heartbeat later, he seemed to realise what he’d said, and his cheeks pinked, the bright flush of it crawling down his neck and all the way up to his hairline. “Ah-” he managed, a flustered note to his voice that tugged at the corners of her lips. “I didn’t mean to imply that- well. You have many admirable qualities besides your beauty, of course, and- you are a _very_ talented ranger, and have been… a great friend to me, when I’ve needed it most, and-”

“Percy!” she cut across him, with a laugh, unable to help the grin curling at her mouth. “Percy, darling, it’s okay. I know what you meant, and it’s very sweet. Thank you.” She leant in, on impulse, and pressed a kiss to his cheek – and giggled a little when his blush darkened by several shades.

“Ah, well. Yes.” He cleared his throat, a little nervously, and much to her disappointment removed the arm from her shoulders to clasp his hands in his lap. “And besides, if anyone in Syngorn has something nice, that makes you feel inferior, we can just… take it.”

Still laughing, Vex shook her head at the ridiculousness of it all – sat in a magical house, in the Feywild, worrying about what her absent, _awful_ father would think of her, when she had such wonderful, kind, and occasionally incredibly silly friends right here. “I like the way you think!” she said, wiping at her eyes once more, aware the kohl was probably smudged beyond repair and resigning herself to being horrified by her own reflection when she went to wash her face.

“Well, and then they’re just, y'know, shit without anything, and then you’re… you,” finished Percy, his eyes catching hers for a moment before he looked away, down at his hands in his lap. There was something in them, something in his gaze – a spark when their eyes locked, a brief, electric _connection_ – that made her breath hitch before she had to look away. “With their stuff.”

There was a long moment of silence, where the electricity hung in the air between them, and they both carefully did not meet the other’s eye.

“…Thank you, Percy,” said Vex, eventually, when she felt sure she could open her mouth without something stupid and regrettable escaping her. She reached out, a little hesitant, to place a hand on top of his linked fingers. “For… understanding.” She hoped she wouldn’t have to spell it out – and, judging by his half-smile and the way he inclined his head, she wouldn’t. 

“You’re welcome,” he said, quietly, unclasping his hands beneath hers and turning one palm-up, their fingers lacing together almost automatically. “I’m not sure why the thought never occurred to me before, really. Given how often Vax talks about the two of you being identical twins, and how similar you look, and- well. It’s something I have a little experience with, I suppose.”

“Oh?” 

Percy lips twisted a little, a strange half-tug at the corners that she’d come to associate with him thinking about the past. “My, ah- Ludwig, my youngest brother.” His eyes were sad, but his voice was warm with nostalgia, fond memories. “He was a terror of a child, really. If there was ever a commotion in the castle, we always knew who was causing it. You… I think you would have liked him. He had a healthy amount of disdain for high society, too.”

“Really?” Vex couldn’t quite stifle the giggle at the end of the word. The idea of any sibling of Percy and Cassandra’s being anything close to _a terror_ was entirely too ridiculous. The de Rolos as she knew them were quiet, serious, studious… though she supposed, sobering a little, that they likely hadn’t always been like that.

Percy nodded, a slow smile creeping across his face. “He was a _hellbeast_ at formal events. Mother and father kept trying to coax him into dresses until he was around six, I think. They gave up when stripped down to his underclothes in the middle of a reception ceremony for some visiting ambassador or another and her family.”

He snorted, softly, at the memory, the corners of his eyes creasing. Vex couldn’t help but giggle at the thought – a whole family full of Percys and Cassandras, formally dressed and straight-backed and serious, and a small child cheerfully disrobing in the middle of a grand hall.

“Mother and father were _mortified_ ,” continued Percy, eyes distant, lost in memory. “The rest of us, naturally, thought it was just the _funniest_ thing, and rather ruined the rest of the ceremony with our giggling. But- yes. They renamed him Ludwig when he was seven, and still rather insistent that he was like Julius rather than Vesper, and that was that.”

The image of a younger Percy, hair dark rather than bleach-bone white, face free of its scars and dark circles and creases, laughing at his younger siblings’ half-nakedness, was entirely too much. She broke into giggles, covering her mouth with her fingers and rocking forward a little with the force of it.

“…Anyway,” said Percy, after a moment of silence broken only by Vex’s soft laughter. The distant haze had disappeared from his face, replaced by a bittersweet sort of fondness that tugged at his mouth and eyes. He looked like Vax, a little, in that moment – not so much sad as _tired_. “Enough of me rambling. We should both probably get some semblance of sleep, given the day we have ahead of us tomorrow. If you’ll excuse me, Vex…”

He made to stand, and Vex couldn’t help feeling, ridiculously, suddenly _disappointed_.

“Percy?” she asked, quietly, as he got to his feet, squeezing his fingers when he tried to pull away. He paused, and turned to look at her, eyebrows raised and the slightest hint of _hope_ in his eyes. “Will you… will you stay at my side when we’re there?”

Percy’s expression softened, and he inclined his head, squeezing her fingers in response before pulling his hand slowly – almost reluctantly, though perhaps she was imagining things – free from hers. “Yes, yes. Of course, Vex.” He slipped his hands into his pockets, and looked her up and down, that strange, crooked smile still curling at his lips. “And, uh… the outfit works. Don’t change it. Keep the hat.”

Vex reached up to touch the witch’s hat, still perched atop her head, and her eyes widened – she’d forgotten all about it, and realised she must have made an even more ridiculous picture during her tearful breakdown than she’d thought. “Alright,” she agreed, laughing quietly. She had to admit, although Scanlan had gifted it to her as a joke, she’d grown rather fond of it. “…Good night, then, Percival. Thank you.” 

“Good night,” agreed Percy, easily. He headed for the door, slowly, and then paused, in the entrance, one hand on the door frame as he looked back over his shoulder at Vex – beautiful, proud, _vulnerable_ Vex, smiling despite the red-rimmed eyes and kohl streaked down her cheeks – and hesitated. “And, ah. Do sleep well, dear, won’t you?”

He slipped out of the room quickly, before he could say anything else ridiculous and daft, make any more of a fool of himself – and, as such, missed the way Vex’s smile blossomed into a warm, wide grin.

**Author's Note:**

> i have some Feelings about trans lady vex. specifically, how well that particular headcanon feeds into her specific insecurities regarding her appearance and how she is perceived and judged, and how Anxious she is about going back to a place where people knew her as a kid. plus, trans lady headcanons are always good.
> 
> for more fic, ramblings, and angst, visit me @sparxwrites on tumblr!


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